Nightmares and Troubled Minds
by FavoriteWhiteOwl
Summary: All Tim really wants is just for someone to be there for him... (slight goriness, nothing too much)
1. Chapter 1

Distressed, Tim suddenly jolts up in bed, breathing roughly. He can feel the sweat on his forehead, momentarily confused. _'Where- oh…the manor.' _He remembers coming home after the nights patrol instead of going back to his own apartment, due to Dicks pleading.

Still taking deep breaths, Tim tries to calm himself down. Closing his eyes, visions of his nightmare flicker in his mind.

_He's in a room, stiff air making it hard to breath. No windows, no doors- the utter and complete darkness makes him feel claustrophobic. A weak, yet familiar, voice comes from in front of him._

_"Why, Tim? You just…stood there. Useless.. Why didn't you stop them?... You could have saved our lives..." a bloody, beaten, too-pale Nightwing says to him, the used-to-be blue bird on his chest coated in red. He just stands there, staring at him, a clear look of disappointment etched on his face._

_Appearing beside him, Batman looks slightly more disgusting, cuts in his costume pouring with blood._ _"You've always let us down, Tim… No matter how hard we tried… A disgrace. Get out of this family, Tim. You don't deserve to be here."_

Tim tries to remind himself that it was _just a nightmare_, opening his eyes to get the images out of his head. His mind, though, refuses to let him escape that easily, forcing them back into his vision.

_Turning around to leave, Tim finds his path blocked by Damian, standing with his arms crossed in the way he always does when talking to 'Drake'. Except, his head seems to be cocked just too far right, and there's a hole where the "R" on his costume should have been... "Tt. Why didn't they listen to me? I always told them you were useless, Drake. They never believed me. Look who's right, now."_

_Behind him, Jason comes out, holding his helmet, which is split down the middle, in his left hand. In his right, a small hand gun. There's a small hole, right in the middle of his forehead, dripping blood. He grins at Tim, which in and of itself is creepy, since Jason never smiles… "How does it feel, Replacement? You've let us down one too many times… But don't worry, I'll take care of that." And suddenly he raises his right arm, pointing his gun right at Tim's face, pulling back the trigger then-_

"STOP!" Tim yells, shaking and gripping his head. At some point, silent tears had made their way down his cheeks. He wanted to sob, when a sudden urge to vomit forces him to the side of his bed, making him lose the contents of his stomach all over his floor. Lying there, Tim only wishes to get up and leave but finds he has no energy left. After not sleeping for three day, and patrols that always went too long, the exhaustion finally hits him, making him tremble.

Only a few seconds later, he hears his door burst open. A hand appears, rubbing the small of his back. He hears someone say "It's okay, Tim. You'll be okay. We're right here, Timmy," he just doesn't have the energy to open his eyes to see who the voice belongs to.

A reminder of all his failures- things no one else blamed him for, but himself- made their way to the front of his thoughts. Shaking, he managed "I'm s-sorry… _I'm s-so- so s-sorry…"_

Every word seemed to make him lose more and more energy, until he can no longer hold himself up on his elbow. Before he slams his head onto the stand beside his bed, arms wrap around him quickly and pull him back into a comfortable embrace. "Hush, Timmy, it's okay. I'm here for you, little brother. I'm always here for you" is whispered into his hair.

And even though some small voice in the back of his head tells him it's a lie, Tim finds himself just glad that someone's there…

**A/N I know I should be working on my other things, but this one just kinda popped in my head.. I dunno, I like it. Well, R&R! Suggestions always welcome! Oh, and the song "A Bad Dream" by Keane is kinda what I wrote this piece about, so… I hope you enjoyed it!**


	2. Chapter 2

_ "Red Robin?" Nightwing said, landing quietly on the warehouse roof and walking over to where the other vigilante squatted. _

_Slightly startled, Red Robin jumped up quickly, turning around only to find his older brother beside him already. Giving a quick look-over of Tim, Dick sighed then moved in for a hug. He had missed his little brother, and although he would much rather ask him why he looked so thin, he just wanted to give him a hug. _

_"Oh, hey Night- ungh… Hey, uh, kinda need to _breath_ here." _

_After a few seconds, Nightwing let go. He thought he had heard a sniffle, but with the wind he couldn't be sure if he was just hearing things or not. "How are you, little bird? It's been too long, I've missed you!" Dick said, realizing how ironic it was that he was telling Tim it had been too long, even though he was technically at fault for not being able to stop by._

_"Oh, um… you know, I'm fine. Just… just doing a quick patrol. Not much else to do," which, though Dick didn't know, was a lie._

_Dick _had_ been planning on just going back to the manor, but now that Tim was here, he thought maybe a patrol of Gotham together would be fun. He definitely wanted to spend more time with Tim, and doing this together certainly could help. "Hey, wanna do a quick round of Gotham, maybe go back to the manor after?" he suggested._

_"Oh, I don't know. I'm uh… you know, just busy. I gotta go back to my apartment and do some, uh, some work… ya know." Tim seemed nervous. Dick noticed that he was mumbling a little bit when he answered him earlier but didn't think much of it. Now, he was curious why he was acting like this; Tim rarely seemed out of sorts. Maybe if he got him to go to the manor, he could get some answers out of him. _

_"Oh come on, it'll be fun! I haven't patrolled with you in… well, in a long time! And plus, I heard A is making cookies!" Dick knew that last part wasn't completely truthful, but if Bruce had told Alfred Dick was coming over, surely he would make cookies for when after he got back from patrol? _

_"Nightwing, I-" _

_"Pleeeeease? Come on, you can't resist A's cookies!" No one can resist Alfred's cookies._

_"*sigh*… Well, okay. I guess it couldn't hurt…"Tim quickly found himself in another death-grip by Nightwing._

_"Yay! Now, let's go kick some bad-guy butt!" Nightwing ran to the side of the roof, looking over his shoulder to Red Robin. "You coming, little bird?"_

_Red Robin sighed. "Yeah, I'm coming…"After he caught up with Nightwing, they both shot off their grappling hooks and started patrolling._

_Making their way through Gotham had gone exceptionally well. They had stopped two attempted rapes and caught a gang trying to rob a jewelry store. Dick noticed that Tim was a little sluggish when fighting off the gang members, but thought that it was most likely just from tiredness. It was, for that matter, nearly 3, and although they had very few hitches, running all around Gotham could get tiring. So, once they finished tying up the gang, Dick decided that they could head back to the cave._

_Once they got there, they both headed into the changing room to get into some pajamas. Dick had been changed first, and when he walked out to the computers, he found both Bruce and Damian still up. Bruce was, of course, typing something on the computer while Damian sat next to him, looking utterly bored. When Dick walked it, Damian merely looked over his shoulder to see who it was, then turn back around. _

_Walking up behind him, Dick stopped by Damian's chair and ruffled his hair. "What's up, Little D?" _

_"Tt. Grayson. Will you ever stop using that derogatory name? I _do_ have a perfectly fine one already." Damian huffed, clearly frustrated at not doing anything. Turning around in his chair, he was about to say something else, when Dick noticed he made an annoyed face and growled "What is Drake doing here?"_

_Sure enough, when Dick looked back, Tim was walking out of the changing room in a t-shirt and pajama pants. Dick smiled at Tim, until, that is, when Tim got close enough for Dick to see his face. There was no bruising, but under his eyes were deep, black circles, darker then Dick had ever seen. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but that could have just been from patrol. Once again, Dick noted that Tim looked too thin, especially now that he was out of costume. Tim stopped in front of Dick, making a face when he saw Dick's worried face. "What? What is it?" Tim asked bluntly, clearly annoyed at the look Dick was giving him._

_"Are you okay, Timmy?" Dick, now worried not only at Tim's face but also his attitude, asked. _

_"Tt. Why are you worried about Drake? He probably did something stupid- again." Damian said while smirking at Tim. Having Tim around was always a good reason for Damian to start a fight. Unfortunately, the answer he received was not what he expected._

_"Yeah… well, I uh, I think I'm gonna go to bed. I'm tired." Tim said, not showing any emotion to what Damian just said. He started walking away towards the stairs when Dick grabbed his wrist._

_"You're going to bed? Without having any cookies?" Dick asked, confused. He knew Tim was tired, and he certainly knew that sometimes he was almost too tired to have cookies before bed at the manor, but he always managed to have at least a couple. Tim not having any was just… weird._

_Tim looked down and mumbled at his feet. "No, I'm just… too tired. Goodnight." And with that, he slowly made his way up the stairs. _

_Dick stood there for a moment, slightly surprised. When he turned around and walked back over to the computers, he pulled a chair over and let himself sink into it. Leaning his head back, he yawned and stretched his back, saying "I think something's up with Tim."_

_A second later, Bruce responded without stopping his typing, "He's tired. You stayed out longer than usual."_

_Dick simply nodded, knowing that Bruce was probably right. They did stay out long, but only because he wanted to spend more time with Tim. He just didn't realize that he'd made Tim stay out so late that he'd look like he was just beaten up. A moment later, Alfred walked down the stairs, holding a tray of cookies. Placing the tray down besides Dick at the counter, he stopped._

_"Welcome home, Master Dick. How was patrol with Master Timothy?" Alfred said politely, though clearly showing some concern on his face._

_"Good, I guess. I don't know. Does Tim seem off to you?" Dick said, sighing for what felt like the millionth time that night. He grabbed a cookie off the tray, inspecting it slightly before taking a small bite, finding he wasn't actually that hungry._

_"Tt." Damian interjected, "Has Drake ever been normal?"_

_Raising an eyebrow, Alfred replied "Master Timothy did seem rather… dazed when I met him upstairs. I offered him a snack, but he refused, saying he'd rather just go to bed. I suspect he's more than a little tired after tonight's patrol?"_

_Dick finished the cookie, standing up and starting to make his way past Alfred towards the stairs. "Yeah… Well, I'm exhausted… so I'm just gonna go to bed, too. Night."_

_"Goodnight, Master Dick." he heard Alfred call up the stairs._

_ Making his way through the manor, Dick stopped outside Tim's room, looking inside to check on his little brother. Sure enough, Tim was passed out, completely sprawled across his bed. 'Hm.' Dick thought, 'He was so tired he didn't even put on blankets...' Dick went to a hall closet and took out a thick comforter, covering Tim with it and tucking it in. It was too cold out not too, and Dick didn't want Tim to catch a cold._

_After leaving Tim's room, Dick made his way back to his. He stepped inside and collapsed on his bed. He didn't remember feeling so exhausted when he got back from patrol, but now that he was laying down in his own nice, comfy bed, it didn't take long for him to pass out himself. _

Two hours later, Dick sat holding Tim, feeling extremely stupid.

Dick had woken up from a strange dream after only an hour and a half of sleep, feeling extremely thirsty, and decided to go down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and maybe a snack. He had been almost to his door when he heard a scream come from down the hall.

"STOP!"

Dick could hear it was Tim, and his breath hitched, worry now taking over. He set his glass down on a small table quickly then ran to Tim's room. '_An intruder?…But-'_ Opening Tim's door, Dick's question was answered.

Tim was half leaning over the side of his bed, shaking, the stench of vomit already reaching Dick's nose.

Dick ran over to the bed, sitting beside him and started rubbing small circles on his back, hoping to help relieve Tim some; it had always worked for himself. A moment passed, and he looked up to see Bruce in the doorway, along with Alfred, worry etched across both of their faces.

He leaned in closer to Tim, saying in a quiet voice "It's okay, Tim. You'll be okay. We're right here, Timmy." He was about to say more when he hears Tim whisper.

"I'm s-sorry_… I'm s-so- so s-sorry_…" Dick freezes for a moment, confused, when he suddenly notices Tim go slack. Tim must've been too exhausted to hold himself up. He was about to hit his head on the bed stand, but Dick catches him, pulling him back into a tight hug. Tim was still shaking, and when Dick touched Tim's skin, he cringed at how hot it felt. He rests his chin on top of Tim's head, still holding him tight.

"Hush, Timmy, it's okay. I'm here for you, little brother. I'm always here for you." he whispers, closing his eyes.

A growing sense of guilt sets in Dick's stomach. He should have realized that Tim wasn't just "a little tired" after they had gotten back from patrol. Tim had looked deathly, and Dick had just written it off as tiredness. _'What kind of a brother doesn't notice that?' _he thought, tightening his grip on Tim.

Holding Tim now, Dick realized just how _thin_ he really was. He could feel Tim's ribs nearly sticking out of his skin, his arms practically just bone. It nearly made Dick want to throw up, because now he _knew _just how poor of a job he was doing as an older brother. Here was his little brother, _his precious little brother_, looking like he was on his deathbed. It just _wasn't_ _right_, and Dick knew he had to do something to help. He just couldn't sit here, watching his younger brother and knowing that his condition was partly on him.

Opening his eyes, he found that Bruce and Alfred were still in the room, though Bruce was standing at the foot of the bed while Alfred was cleaning up after Tim. Dick looked up to Bruce, then back to Tim, finding that Tim had passed out again. Though now, he was more afraid that Tim had _literally_ passed out, not just fallen asleep.

Still looking at Tim, Dick said "We need to get him on an I.V. drip. He's probably dehydrated from throwing up… Plus, his heart is racing."

"I suspect he will also require an NG-tube, for it seems that his vomit was only bile. It looks like the child hasn't eaten in quite some time," Alfred stated, looking partly uneasy, making towards the door with the trash. "I suggest we do so as soon as possible." And with that, left the room.

Bruce moved over to where Dick was sitting, leaning down to try and pick Tim up. "Here, I can take him. I was going down to the cave, anyways." Clearly, Bruce wasn't happy. Mixed with worry, Dick could see the guilt written all over his face, probably the same he felt, for not noticing Tim's condition.

"No. I can take him. I'd rather stay down there and watch over him." Dick said, standing up while holding Tim bridal style.

"Dick, you should slee-"

"I said I could take him." Walking out of the room, Dick could tell Bruce was slightly annoyed, but honestly, he didn't care. He was tired, but right now, making sure Tim was okay seemed _way_ more important.

Bruce strode ahead of him, leading the way down the stairs and to the grandfather clock, moving both hands to the twelve. The secret door popped open, leading to the passageway down to the cave. They made their way down the stairs, only to find Alfred already in the medical area, setting up the bed with two separate drip-bags.

Dick moved over to the bed, slowly setting Tim down. As soon as Tim was completely out of his arms, Alfred got started. He inserted both of the drips into Tim's arms, one on each arm. By the time Alfred was done working on Tim, it seemed there was almost more machine than human. Along with the drips, Alfred had hooked an EKG machine up to Tim, and also a breathing tube for his nose. Clearly, Alfred wasn't going to take any risks, especially with the way Tim was.

The entire time, Dick had stood by, waiting for Alfred to finish so he could move to sit next to his little brother. With the way the lights were set up, Tim's cheeks looked scarily hollow. Seeing Tim lie there, unmoving and too-thin, scared Dick. So as soon as Alfred moved out of the medical area, Dick pulled a chair over to Tim's bed and sat beside him, holding his hand.

So many things were running through his mind, it confused Dick to think at all, especially with how tired he was. Why hadn't Tim talked to anyone? _Especially _Dick. Tim might not show a lot of emotion to other people, but he almost _always_ opens up when he is talking to Dick… It hurt him to think that _maybe_ Tim thought he couldn't talk to Dick.

All Dick wanted right now was to be able to talk to Tim, but he couldn't, and he absolutely _hated it._

Leaning into Tim's hand, Dick closed his eyes, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Suddenly, a hand appeared on his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Dick. Don't blame yourself."

Dick looked up to see Bruce standing over him, looking down with a sad smile. "Did you see him before last night? At all?" Dick asked, starting to wonder if Tim had seen _anyone _ since the last time they saw each other.

"No… I- I was busy. Wayne Enterprises is… is uh, expanding more in Europe and… I had heard that he was away, though. I didn't know he was in Gotham until you called in saying you both were coming." Bruce, now looking anywhere but at Tim or Dick, was obviously feeling uncomfortable.

Turning around to completely face the billionaire, Dick gaped at Bruce. "You're telling me he was off on some mission and he was _by himself?!_ Bruce, why didn't you tell me?! He could have gotten himself _killed _if he was alone! He was gone for _weeks!_" Now completely fed up with Bruce, Dick turned back to Tim, worry starting to grow again.

"Dick, look, I'm sorry I-" Bruce started.

"We need to check his blood. If there's a chance he was injected or exposed to something, that may explain why he's acting like this. I'll get Alfred." Dick interrupted, no longer dealing with Bruce's excuses.

Standing up, Dick walked away from Tim's bed and Bruce. Right now, he wasn't sure if he was more mad at the fact that Bruce had kept something important from him or worried that Tim could have some unknown poison running through his body.

_'God, what a night this has become.'_


	3. Chapter 3

Dick had been sitting at the Bat-computer for roughly three hours. It was now a little after eight in the morning, but Dick wasn't really paying attention to the time.

He'd taken a blood sample from Tim to check and see if there was anything strange running through his veins almost immediately after Bruce told him what he knew. After about 30 minutes of agonizing waiting, an alert had come back, saying that some of Scarecrow's most recent batch of Fear-Gas had been present. _And,_ in a _very lethal _amount.

Honestly, he was surprised Tim even survived with as much that was in his blood. _That _scared him. How he had come in contact with it, though, would have to wait. Tim was still knocked out, and seeing the way he was, Dick didn't think he would be awake for quite some time.

It physically _hurt _Dick to know that he couldn't do much except wait, because that's how fear-gas works; you take a small amount of medicine, and wait for the effects to wear off. Sometimes, it could take _weeks _before the toxin finally fled a person's system. But with Tim, who knew how long it could be before he was totally clear of the stuff.

Dick knew all too well what it was like to have Fear-Gas running through his system, and knowing what Tim was going through and not being able to stop it made him feel useless. There was nothing else he _could _do, but ever since the readings of Tim's blood sample came back, Dick's stomach had been clenched with fear, and he knew he wouldn't start to feel _remotely _better until Tim was okay.

He could have just stopped there, because the toxin being in Tim's system would explain all of the symptoms he was showing, but he decided he didn't want to risk missing anything. If there was a chance something else was there that shouldn't be, Dick wanted to know.

Several times during the course of the analysis, Bruce had come down, trying to talk him into taking a break. But, Dick was having none of it. He ignored him or gave him short, one-word answers, knowing exactly what he was doing; he was pulling a "Batman." So many nights Bruce would sit at the computer, barely moving, nor acknowledging anyone's presence. It was Bruce's turn to feel what it's like to be ignored. _Especially_ when it was over something important.

'_Bastard,' _Dick thought. _'How could he not tell me?'_ It wasn't surprising that Bruce had forgotten to tell Dick something; that happened every once in a while. But _dammit,_ this was _important._ '_His freaking son, and he didn't tell anyone. Bastard!' _If Tim had been _killed_, no one might have even known for _weeks__. _'_All because Bruce "forgot_".'

And it wasn't the only reason why Dick was mad. He knew Bruce cared about his "sons," yet he never managed to stay _when they needed it_. He remembered being younger, extremely sick or injured, and wanting to be with Bruce, only for the man to run off to work. Dick understood that Bruce _owned _the business, but he practically never took off if it wasn't absolutely necessary. It had happened so often Dick had gotten used to being alone, but that still hadn't meant that he _liked_ it.

And now, with Tim being the sick one, he _knew _it was unfair for Bruce to be off at work. Not only was Bruce better at analyzing things than Dick was, but if Tim _did_ wake up, he knew that having his surrogate father there would help Tim emotionally.

The kid might not show lots of emotions, but Dick knew that he appreciated the time Bruce spent with him. So now, if Tim woke up with only his brother to comfort him, he'd probably feel unimportant. And that was the _last _thing Dick wanted Tim to feel right then. _'All because Bruce just __had__ to work.'_

Needless to say, Dick wanted to hit something. Preferably Bruce.

Alfred had come down too, offering Dick any sort of food. He hadn't missed that Dick had only one cookie after patrol, which Dick appreciated. He had no reason to be upset with Alfred, no matter how much he was with Bruce, so he gratefully took the food that was offered to him, although he wasn't particularly hungry.

Originally, Dick had _wanted_ to move Tim upstairs to his room, but both Alfred and Bruce had insisted that they needed to keep him in the cave. If anything happened, it would be easier to take care of if he stayed in the cave. It was cold in the cave though, and Dick didn't need to worry about Tim getting a cold or flu to make matters worse. So, before sitting down to analyze Tim's blood, he brought down several thick blankets to cover Tim with. He still didn't think it was enough, but he decided that it would have to do so he could start his work.

Leaning back in his chair, Dick covered his face with his hands and gave a large sigh.

Bruce had just left 15 minutes earlier, after once again trying to apologize and getting him to sleep some, when Dick checked the time. It was just past 8:30. _'Bruce should be at work by now,' _Dick thought. _'Oh crap, work. I have to call in. It's Friday. Dammit.'_ He didn't want to leave the computer, just in case something came up, but after nearly an hour and a half since the first alert came, he decided it would be okay to go make the call.

After he got back from the call, he sat back down in front of the computer, rubbing his eyes and relieved. He expected to be given hell for asking off on a Friday, _especially _since Blِüdhavens' crazies all decided Friday's were the best time to commit crimes, but his Major had told him that someone had already called in to say they could take another shift.

He'd been so caught up in his call that he hadn't noticed the computer give another alert. When Dick finally stopped rubbing his eyes, he looked at the computer screen. A big pop-up had appeared, reading "Analysis Complete." Nothing else irregular had appeared in the results. Dick sat there for a moment, a little surprised, then laid back in his chair, a small grin making its way to his face. He still wasn't happy about the dangerous levels of fear-gas toxin in Tim's blood, but since there was nothing else bad, Dick finally felt like he was making _some _sort of progress.

Allowing himself to take his eyes off the screen, he got up and started stretching. How _nice _it was to finally be out of that chair. Dick couldn't stand sitting still for so long, but since it was for Tim, he managed. Walking across the cave to lean against the doorway of the medical room, he crossed arms across his chest, watching Tim.

Tim still looked _dreadful_, although he was starting to gain _some _color back- or what small amount of color he _had_. Dick noticed his hands twitch slightly, and was about to move to sit next to him, when a he heard a voice that made him freeze.

"So, what's the Replacement done to himself this time, _Dickie-bird_?"


	4. Chapter 4

At Wayne Enterprises, its CEO Bruce Wayne sat at his desk, franticly working. Not because he was very busy with things to do, but because he was trying to _keep_ himself busy. The extra reports he had asked for on his desk were merely there to use as a distraction from the troubles going on back at his manor. Unfortunately for him, they weren't doing their job very well.

_'You should be back at the cave, with Tim' _half of him, the more affectionate, fatherly part, debated. _'He deserves to have you be there, especially after what he's clearly been through.'_

But of course, his other half, the ever-so-logical "Batman," thought differently. _'He has Dick to take care of him, not to mention Alfred. Plus, he's not awake, and from the way it seemed, he won't be for some time. There's no reason to rush back if nothing's changed.'_

Giving an exasperated sigh, Bruce shoved the papers away, leaning back in his chair. For over an hour, these mini battles in his mind had been going on, stopping him from concentrating on his work. Several times, he hadn't been paying attention and messed up some of the numbers from the reports, having to start all over from the beginning. _'I just can't do this. Maybe… maybe I should call. Just to see how things are going…' _he thought miserably.

_'No. If something had happened, they would have called. Keep working.'_

"Bruce?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Bruce looked up to find Lucius Fox, his companies CFO, standing just inside his doorway. How had he been so unfocused he didn't even _notice_ Lucius come into his office? Bruce wondered as he stood up.

"Lucius. Ah- sorry. Come in. I've just been, uh, a little distracted." Bruce gestured for the man to sit down in one of the comfy chairs in front of his desk, not sitting down until the man had. "So what brings you to my office?" He sat back, giving the man a kind smile.

"Well, believe it or not, _you _are" Lucius joked. "Jessica had called to tell me you had arrived, almost an hour later than usual. Not that I have a problem with you coming in a bit later, I just can't rememberthe last time you came in _after _8."

Bruce gave a small laugh, trying to look anywhere but at Lucius. He knew that if Lucius asked why he was late and he told him, the man would probably tell him to _go home_, to look after his son. It wasn't that he didn't _want _to help, he just… wasn't sure of what he could do.

"Bruce? Bruce, what's wrong?" Lucius asked, once again breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. _'Damn it'_ he thought. _'I must've been making a face…'_

"Oh, right. Well, uh, my alarm didn't go off. I forgot to set it last night" he said, shrugging nonchalantly. It wasn't necessarily a _lie_ because he really didn't set his alarm the previous night- he had never gone to sleep. But the look on Lucius' face gave away that he knew Bruce was lying.

"Your _alarm clock,_ Bruce?"

Leaning back in his chair and covering his face with his hands, Bruce sighed. "I know, you're right. It _wasn't _my alarm. It's just… Well, Tim's sick, and… I don't know if I should _be _there, Lucius. I mean, Alfred _and _Dick are there to take care of him, so he doesn't really _need _me." Even after letting everything that was on his mind out, he _still _didn't feel better.

"How sick _is _he Bruce? When did he get sick?" Lucius asked.

"Well, after he came home with Dick last night after…it, he didn't seem so good." He knew Lucius knew about his and his sons' late-night hobby, but he never mentioned it in the office. "I thought he was just tired. But two hours later, Alfred, Dick and I ran into his room to find him throwing up and yelling for _something_ to stop, only for him to pass out. I haven't seen him for several weeks, though, so how long, I don't know…"

"Bruce, you're telling me you have a son at home who's _passed out, _and you're _not there _to take care of him?"

_"I know,_ Lucius, but it's like I said before, Dick and Alfred are already _there_ taking care of him. He doesn't need _me _to be there." Bruce retorted, already getting the sense he was on the losing side.

"You have a sick son, Bruce. Not to mention one that isn't even _capable_ of taking care of himself right now. Go home, Bruce. Your son needs you more than WE does right now." Lucius said, standing up while smiling knowingly at Bruce. The man, however, wasn't paying attention.

_'Damn it. I knew he'd say that if I told him… But he made it sound as if I could actually help Tim right now… what could I do that Dick or Alfred couldn't? Why do __I__ have to be there? I don't need Dick's ignoring me either…' _Bruce thought. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized he was just trying to stay away from the cave _because _he didn't want to deal with the guilt.

He already _had _enough guilt from forgetting that Tim had told him he was going away, he didn't need more from Dick or Alfred. Bruce still hadn't forgotten how Alfred had made Tim's favorite breakfast, raspberry pancakes. _"I do apologize, Master Bruce. It seems I've __forgotten__ that you do not like raspberry pancakes."_

_'Am I such a horrible person that I'd rather run away from guilt-trip looks- which I definitely deserve- than be with my __sick__ son?' _he wondered.

"_Bruce!"_

"_Yes,_ Lucius?"

"You're phone's been ringing for about 10 seconds, and I was wondering if you were going to answer it?" Lucius laughed quietly, slightly amused at the younger man's distressed state.

_ 'Jesus, I can't even notice my __phone__ ringing. Well, I wonder who's- Dick?' _he thought, confused when seeing the caller I.D. appear on his phone's screen.

"Dick? What- wait, what? He's… wait, he's what? Dick- " And as soon as it began, the call ended, leaving Bruce shocked and surprised.

Looking up, he quickly realized what he'd just been told, jumping out of his chair to run to his closet and pull out his coat. He felt his pockets, thinking he must have left his keys in his desk.

Scrambling through his desks' drawers, he was becoming frustrated because he couldn't find his keys _anywhere_. _'God dammit, I don't need this right now!'_

'For God's sake, Bruce!"

About to give the older man a glare, he stopped when he saw that Lucius was holding out to him his phone _and _his keys.

"They were right beside your phone, Bruce" Lucius chuckled.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce met Lucius' eyes. "Tim's awake."

"Well, _go _then." Lucius smiled, dropping the keys in Bruce's hand. Walking out behind his desk, Bruce put a hand on Lucius' arm, quickly mouthing "Thank you" before running out of the office.

Running past Jessica towards the elevator doors, he gave a quick "I'm going home" before getting into the elevator. As he stepped in and turned around, Bruce saw Jessica quietly giggling before seeing Lucius wave from his office door.

"Tell Alfred and the kids we say "Hello", would you Bruce?" the man said before the elevator doors shut, starting its descent.

**A/N Just a quick little thing- I'm glad to hear many of you enjoy this story, and I appreciate the reviews and such! Keep being awesome! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N I'm sorry about this stupid month delay thing… Exams and such are a bummer at the end of the year :I Well, hopefully now all of those shenanigans are done, I can get chapters up quicker! I hope you all enjoy J**

The first thing Tim feels when he wakes is a massive headache, forming gradually behind his forehead. He wants to pick his hand up and start massaging his temples, but he's so exhausted he thinks he doesn't have the energy to even turn his head.

He knows he's in the med. room at the manor, for brief flashes of arriving to the cave… _whenever _he did, reminds him he had gone to the manor. He'd say that since he's so tired he got little sleep, but since he has gotten so used to waking up tired (no matter how long he slept), he really can't tell how long he was out. Plus there's no windows in the cave, so there's no way of telling what time it is.

Tim _wants _to close his eyes and _maybe _catch up on some seriously needed sleep, but…

_'Oh. That dream…'_

He realizes he must've been so tired the previous night that he forgot _why _he was so tired in the first place. It wasn't that he _couldn't_ fall asleep. He wouldn't _allow_ himself to.

Every night for nearly two weeks he had gone through the same problem- the awful, strange dreams. The things that happened in the dreams weren't always the same, but it always came to the same conclusion: the people Tim cared about, hurt in some way because of something he failed to do. And after a week and a couple of days of little no sleep, he gave up on it completely. Why waste time on sleep when you know it's not going to come…

And who would want to see that, night after night?

So there he laid, staring up at the pure white ceiling of the med. room, too exhausted to do anything else. Tim could hear the soft humming and beeping of the machines next to his bed… and that's all he hears. No breathing, no whispering; just the machines.

Something about waking up alone reminds him of many times before. The fact he feels nothing about this Tim finds both humorous and depressing.

And suddenly Dick's there, looking down at Tim's face. By the look on his face, Tim starts to wonder _how long _he had actually been out, because _surely _he wouldn't be surprised he was awake after several hours?

They stare at each other for a couple seconds before Dick breaks the silence. "_Tim? _Timmy, you're… you're _awake_?!"

_'Definitely surprised'_ Tim notes. He opens his mouth to try and say something, but all that comes out is a nearly-inaudible "ehhh." Tim gives up and deals with just blinking several times while staring at Dick.

Dick rests his hand on Tim's forehead, saying "How are you feeling, Timmy?" Still unable to speak, Tim glares at Dick and blinks hard at him.

"Um. Hmm. Can you…can you hear me?" Dick asks, realizing he's not getting a response. "Oh, wait. If you _can_ hear me, blink twice." Tim does so, and he watches Dick's face show relief.

"Okay, well, is it your throat? Do you want some water? Blink twice for 'yes', once for 'no'."

Tim figures that the reason he may not be able to speak is because of a dry throat, so maybe water _would_ help. He blinks twice, then watches Dick move over to the sink, returning a minute later with a glass of water. Dick's about to set the glass down when he stops half-way there, looking at Tim. "You're uh… probably gonna need help drinking this?"

He looks over at Dick, raising an eyebrow, because '_Really? If I couldn't move before what makes you think I could do that __now__?' _Tim thinks. Dick lets out a small chuckle and sets the glass down, moving to get Tim to sit up.

The whole minute it took to get Tim to sit up, he has his tongue stuck between his teeth, moaning inwardly. He might not be using any of his muscles, but it still _hurt _to move. By the time he's sitting up with his back leaning against the headboard of the bed, he thinks he's more exhausted _now _than he was when he woke up.

Dick brings the cup up to Tim's lips, saying "If you need to stop, just blink twice," but Tim isn't paying attention. Instead, he's silently rejoicing at how _nice _the cool liquid feels, gulping it down faster than he probably should with his eyes closed.

All too soon, he empties the cup. He keeps his eyes closed a moment, not wanting the feeling to go away. When he opens them again, he manages to turn his head towards Dick, the refreshing water giving him a small burst of energy. He gives a smile before making out a quiet "Thank you." Dick, in turn, gives a full-on smile, clearly tired, yet full of relief. He reaches over and gives Tim a light hug, clearly holding back (which Tim is grateful of) due to Tim's obvious pain.

After releasing Tim, Dick stands up and walks over to the door, before turning around and saying "I'll go call Bruce and tell him you're awake, okay?" Tim nods, and Dick smiles and walks out the door. He barely has a minute to himself before another voice enters the room.

"So what ya been up to lately, Replacement?"

Tim looks up from his hands, where he had been staring at since Dick left, to Jason, now standing just inside the room. Normally, he would have jumped from Jason's random appearance, though due to his exhaustion, all he can manage is to look at Jason with a neutral face. But still, he can't help but notice the sudden rise in his heart beat.

Jason walks over to the side of Tim's bed and looks at the heart monitor, obviously catching the quickening of the beep that it's making.

"Really? You honestly think I would try to attack you _here? _I'm still surprised the bat hasn't flown down from _wherever _he is to kick me out."

Tim tries to say something like "Why are you here?" but only manages a set of coughs after something got caught in his throat.

"Speak a little louder, would ya, Replacement?" Jason mocks.

"I said, _what are you doing here?"_ Tim finally gets out, though his voice cracks on the last word and he starts coughing again. When he finishes he glares up at Jason, but after the coughing fits and actually getting a whole sentence out, he slouches further down back against the headboard, feeling an intense wave of exhaustion hitting him. His eyelids start to feel like lead, and it takes up most of his energy just keeping them open.

"Well, you see I-"

"Jason! Your analysis came back!" Dick shouts from outside of the room, cutting Jason off from whatever he was going to say.

Jason looks outside the door then back at Tim, giving him a mocking smile. "Looks like it's for me. Cya around, baby-bird." And with that, walks out the door, leaving Tim alone again.

_'Finally'_ Tim thinks after nearly 10 minutes of silence. _'Maybe now I can catch some sleep…'_ His eyelids are closed when he hears the door at the top of the stairs coming from the manor slam shut.

"_Jason?_ What are- never mind. Tim's still in the med room?" He can distantly hear Bruce nearly shout from across the cave.

But he can already feel himself falling asleep; he can't stop it… _'I'm sorry, Bruce.'_ Tim thinks before he falls fast asleep.

"God _dammit!"_ Bruce shouts from inside his car, frustrated at the bus in front of him stopping again. How could they not know he has a _sick son_ he needs to get home too? And now that Tim's awake, maybe he could get answers to some of the questions he had of his own… and a little reassurance his son is okay.

After practically ignoring people the entire way to get out of WE's building faster and to the parking garage, Bruce raced out onto the streets of Gotham, trying to find the quickest way to get home. Of course, driving at 9:30 a.m. on a Friday morning (when most people decided to go to work later than usual) was not an easy task.

And so far for Bruce, everything had been going _perfectly fine_ until he got behind a school bus! Nearly every other street the bus stopped, picking up a few kids at a time. It had been going on for nearly _5 minutes!_ Stop. Go 50 feet. Stop again. Go another 50 feet. Stop _again._ _'Why don't they all just meet at __one__ stop so this doesn't have to happen?!' _Bruce thought, annoyed, when finally the bus turned down a side street, letting all the cars behind it free to travel.

The rest of the trip home had been quick, and within minutes he could see the manor. He pulled in front of the sidewalk leading up onto the porch and hopped out of his car, rushing up the steps towards the grand door that stoop at the front of his house.

After slipping in, he made his way towards the old clock in his house that lead downstairs through a secret door. Taking the steps down two at a time, he reached the cave in almost record time. What he saw when he got there, however, was not necessarily what he expected.

Both Dick _and_ Jason were at the large computer; Dick sitting in the chair while Jason leaned over the back of it, both suddenly looking at Bruce. "_Jason?_ What are-" he was about to continue, but then remembered he hadn't rushed home for no reason. "Never mind. Tim's still in the med room?" Dick nodded, while Jason simply stared back at Bruce.

"He was awake the last time I was in-" Dick started, but Jason cut him off.

"I was in there last, and he looked like he was ready to pass out."

Bruce looks back and forth between the boys, but walks away towards the med room, though he can hear Dick say to Jason "Did he look like he was going to be sick?" When he reaches the room and looks in, he can't help but feel disappointment burst in his chest at the scene just inside the door: there Tim lays, soundly asleep.

Bruce walks in and pulls a chair up next to the bed, sighing while plopping down into it.

_'Stupid bus.'_


	6. Chapter 6

The second time Tim wakes, it's to a _lot_ less pain, just minor aches in his muscles. Without thinking much of it, he sits up in his bed and stretches his arms in front of him, easing the soreness he feels. He can hear the quiet _pop_ of his bones, closing his eyes and sighing at how good it feels.

When Tim moves to get out of the bed, he realizes that there's snoring –_loud _snoring- coming from in the room. Looking across his bed, he sees a small bundle curled up onto a chair near his window, covered in a thick wool blanket with a hoodie pulled down over its face.

Before he gets the chance to chuckle – because why would _Damian_ be sitting in his room?- Tim shivers, and he pulls up the thick comforter on his own bed, suddenly becoming _very _conscious of the fact that it's _cold _in his room.

Had it always been this cold?

Tim lies back down, staring up at his ceiling because he _knows _that if he gets up, he'll have to deal with family he just _really doesn't feel _like dealing with at the moment. It's not their fault; he just wants some alone time.

Although, being on his whole "just leave me alone" thing did end up with him injected with enough poison to kill someone who hadn't already had a regular taste of the stuff…

_'This is my life,'_ he thinks moodily.

Sighing again (_loudly_, because it's _his room_), Tim closes his eyes.

_*Snort*_

"Drake. If you keep laying there like an idiot, I _will_ go tell the others you're awake."

Does he even _have _any other tones besides sarcastic?

"Why are you even here, Damian? You hate me. And my room." Tim mumbled, having turned onto his stomach with his face fully smothered in pillow.

Damian smirked, although Tim wasn't sure why (that never meant anything good). "I ask the same thing about _you_ every day. Bruce left for work. Dick is in the cave doing more tests. He asked me to watch you while he worked, and I had nothing better to do."

"I can take care of myself."

This time, Damian didn't reply, just stood up and stretched before making it over to Tim's door. He turned to look back at Tim still in his bed, smirking again. "I'm telling Dick you're awake now. Have fun with that."

Before Tim even had the chance to respond, Damian was out the door, and Tim could hear the little devil chuckling down the hallway.

He snuggled further into his blankets, regretting even acknowledging Damian being awake. He tried closing his eyes again, but sunlight was already streaming through his windows, and he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep anyways.

Tim lay there for a moment, just enjoying the quiet when he heard his door being opened slowly. He stilled, hoping whoever it was believed him still asleep.

"Are you awake, Master Timothy?" Alfred spoke, soothingly, so as not to wake him if he were still asleep. Turning back over onto his back, Tim rubbed his eyes, saying "Yeah, I am."

He could hear Alfred moving into the room, and when Tim looked up he saw Alfred standing near the side of his bed, placing a tray of tea down on his bed stand. When Alfred looked back up, Tim met his eyes before immediately looking down at his hands that rested on top of his covers.

A warm hand came to rest on his forehead, pushing back slightly. Tim took it as a sign to turn back towards the older man. When Alfred's voice came out again, it was in the same tone as before, though Tim could hear the relief lacing his words.

"How are you feeling, Master Timothy?"

Unintentionally shivering, Tim sank further into his blankets. "I'm fine, Alfred. Thanks." He gave the older man a small smile, which was thankfully returned.

"I brought tea for you. And, I would suggest drinking it while it's still warm. Strawberry Rose Champagne has always seemed a bit off to me once it cools." He replies, giving another warm smile. Tim smiles widely back this time, appreciating the recollection from a previous conversation they had over their favourite tea flavours.

Taking one of the cups of tea from off the tray, he slowly brings it up to his lips for a small slip. With the delicious flavours bursting in his mouth, Tim can't help but be grateful he has someone like Alfred in his life, because he has _never _had tea as good as the way Alfred makes it.

Looking back up to the older man, he nods his head, another wide smile spread on his face. "Thanks, Alfred. This... is amazing. I really appreciate it."

Something –regret, maybe?- flashes across Alfred's face, and immediately Tim thinks he said the wrong thing.

"Master Timothy, it is my pleasure, and I'm glad you are feeling well. You gave us quite a scare, there. And please, for the sake of my heart, don't be such a stranger next time. We've all missed you at the manor." Grabbing Tim's free hand off the bed, he gives it a small, affectionate pat, along with a soft smile, before placing it back on the bed and walking towards the door.

"Alfred, wait!" Tim usually doesn't make outbursts, he can already feel his cheeks heating up, he just… "Thank you, for.. this. I really do appreciate it."

"Certainly, sir." He turns away, before looking back once more. "Oh, and incase you need to reach me – or anyone, for that matter- I've placed a small pager on the tray of tea, along with your cell phone. I'm still making breakfast, so if you are hungry, I can bring you some up. Or, if you would rather eat downstairs, that will be fine as well."

Tim isn't sure if he is all that hungry, but he's starting to get a little restless in his bed. So, at least trying to eat would be a decent excuse to get out of his room. Besides, his room is _freezing._

"Okay," he says. "I think I'd like to eat downstairs? I feel like I've been in here for a while.."

"Alright, sir. I'll set another place." Alfred nods, giving another small smile before heading out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

Once he left, Tim finishes his cup of tea and places it back on the tray. He notices his phone and is tempted to pick it up, but decides he'd rather just wait. Laying back, Tim takes a moment to really relax. He looks back over to his window, noticing the slight breeze moving his curtains. The window is barely open, but just beyond it Tim can see a light snow falling. Although it's cold, Tim _never_ minds the quiet that comes with snow; it's relaxing, just watching the small snowflakes make their way towards the ground.

It isn't like his day won't get even crazier once he steps out of his room, and it's moments like these he rarely gets.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It doesn't take a detective to feel the tension in the dinning room, and after only sitting in it for a minute, Tim's already itching to get out.

Directly across from him, Dick sits, leaning back against the chair with his arms folded across his chest. He's not even _trying _to be subtle, simply staring at Tim with – what, disappointment? frustration? Every couple of minutes, he sighs loudly, which is his way of saying "I want to talk and that means you have to, too."

Except Tim _really _doesn't feel like talking, especially after, embarrassingly, being found slumped up against the wall a few doors down from his room, his legs too tired and sore to keep moving. _Of course_ it had been Dick who had found him, not saying a single word to Tim as he slouched down to pick him up, carrying him downstairs to the dining room.

Tim had looked up at Dick the entire time, hoping he would at least give him the smile he normally did. But, since the universe apparently enjoyed conspiring against him, Dick barely looked like he noticed Tim was in his arms.

Needless to say, it hurt. A lot. Especially since Dick was the one he had always connected with, always spoke freely with. And having that one person you can talk openly with shut you down hurts.

A lot.

So, he sits at the table, shoulders hunched slightly. Staring down at his small plate of food, he knows he should eat something (his stomach agrees), but he also feels anxious. Neither of the two had touched their food. Beside him, Damian eats at his food like it's a normal day, ignoring him as usual. But he always sits next to Dick, or Bruce if he's there. Another strange thing from him, Tim notes, _and_ in the same day.

Several minutes go by, and it only feels like the awkwardness continues to grow, when a loud "_Ahem_" is heard from behind him. It startles him, causing him to jump slightly, before turning around to see Alfred hade come in from the kitchen. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't heard the man.

"If you both would rather I cook something else for you for breakfast, I will be happy to do so. But, if not, I would like you two to eat your food before it gets cold. I have made hot chocolate for you as well, but before I bring it I would like to know if there is a problem with your food. Is there a problem?"

Damian snorts, finishing his plate and leaning back in his chair, mimicking Dick by crossing his arms over his chest. "The only _problem _is them not being able to use their words _for once_."

"You're one to talk, _Damian."_ Tim says quietly before he realizes, and across from him Dick laughs. Looking up, Tim sees Dick looking at him, but with a less stern expression; a small smile plays across his lips that Tim can't help but return, the familiarity of it causing a burst of warmth in his chest and face.

Already he can feel the tension leaving the room, and he restrains himself from letting out a sigh. Behind him, Alfred moves to pick up Damian's empty plate. "I'll bring the hot chocolate for you now, but you two: _eat up,_" he says before making his way back to the kitchen.

There's a moment of silence before-

"Look, Dick, I-"

"Tim, I'm sorry I-"

They both pause, glancing at each other's surprised faces, before bursting out in laughter, not really sure what's so funny, but just glad the tense moment is over. After they finish their laughter, they both start eating. Tim's happy, because he's pretty sure his stomach would have just taken control of his body and _force_ him to eat. What can he say? He's _hungry._

When Tim just about finishes his meal, Dick says something.

"Tim, I know you're probably still tired, but.. I wanna _talk_. With you, about" he makes a small gesture with his hands toward Tim "about _this._" Tim can see the I'm-you're-older-brother-and-I-care-about-you look in his eyes, but he just does _not_ feel up for a hearty discussion, especially since he's still exhausted from his attempted-trek to the dining room.

"I know you do and- _I do too._ Just.. not now? Please?" Tim pleads.

Aaaaand there goes the puppy-dog eyes Dick has perfected. He knows what's coming, the "Oh pretty pretty pleeeeease?" with a small pout. And, unfortunately, he falls victim _every time._

But, Dick just blinks his eyes, giving a small, understanding smile. "Okay. We can wait. Besides, I've got some more work to do in the cave. You could come help if you want? I wouldn't mind the extra genius to help me get some of it done." And he gives Tim his full-on smile that Tim can't appreciate enough right now.

"Yeah, sure. I'd love to help. My bedroom's getting pretty boring, anyways. And cold. Actually, did one of you open my window?"

"_Yes,_ I did," Damian announces, glaring at Tim with an amused expression. "Because you're room is a _sauna_."

Tim blinks, turning to face at Damian with an exasperated look. "You had a _blanket!_ _And_ a hoodie!" Across from him, Dick is covering his mouth with a hand, trying to hide his laughs. "Now my room's a _freezer_!"

Damian just turns away, shrugging as if it's not big deal. "It's not _my_ fault your room has poor regulation."

Tim rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath "It's not _my_ fault you're insufferable."

Damian turns back to him "I heard that! _I'm_ not the one-"

"Alfred!" Dick calls, leaning back in his chair and covering his eyes with his palms, sounding like he _seriously_ needs someone to save him from his younger brothers.

Alfred reappears, quickly eyeing Tim's and Dick's empty plates. "Yes, Master Dick?"

"We're going down to the cave, do you think you could bring the hot chocolate down there for us?" Dick asks, still hiding under his hands.

"Certainly, sir" Alfred grins, taking the empty plates into his hands. "Is there anything else I can get you sirs?" Both Damian and Tim turn around in their chairs, at the same time saying to Alfred "I'm fine, thanks," before glaring at each other.

Alfred merely chuckles and turns around to leave for the kitchen, once again leaving the three boys.

Dick stands up, pushing in his chair and walking around to Tim. "Do you need help, or- ?" Damian "tsks" before standing up and walking out the door towards the living room. After watching Damian's back go out the door, Tim looks back up to Dick.

"I think I can walk? A little bit, at least. I'll need some support though, so.."

"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Come on, there's some interesting stuff I need you to see." Leaning down, he grabs under Tim's arm, helping him to stand up. At first, Tim's knees feel a little wobbly, but after a couple of minutes he feels secure, especially with Dick's hand holding him up. He smiles at Dick, nodding that he's ready to go. Only mildly interested at what Dick wants to show him, Tim feels anxiety at the knowledge of the conversation he'll need to have soon.

**A/N Sometimes, I remember that I have things I should be doing, but then I just kinda.. don't do them? I'm lazy. I don't like it either. I really am a terrible person.**


End file.
